Heatwave
by paper-princess-94
Summary: After a sudden heatwave in the UK, Francis finds Arthur in a less than perfect condition when they should be going out for lunch. Warning FrUK


**A/N** So I haven't uploaded anything in a while and I'm sure people are going to be shouting at me since I have 2 unfinished stories which should be getting my attention. But with the heatwave we've been having in the UK recently it got me thinking about how Arthur would respond to the recent change in weather. For anyone who doesn't know we've had a very hot summer here in Britain and (at least in south england where I live) there was a pretty much completely uninterrupted period of sun and heat which lasted for what felt like years but which was probably actually only about a month and a half. IT. WAS. HELL!

Anyway, this is my first Hetalia fic and I always tend to get a bit nervous when writing for new fandoms so reviews would be lovely so I know how I did :) Enjoy!

Oh, and FrUk warning... almost forgot... duhh

* * *

"Mon Cher, where are yoooou?" Francis called into the British house as he pocketed his key; glad to have escaped from the clawing heat and beating sun which still waited for him outside. Glancing around the familiar hallway he couldn't help but notice that his foul-mannered lover had yet to arrive and tell him to _"Get out", _or he'd_ "make him get out."_

"Mon Ami?" A perfectly styled head of hair peeked around the living room door, hoping to find the missing nation and was greatly disappointed when he did not. England's embroidery lay abandoned on the table but otherwise there was no sign of the other man.

After searching the entire lower floor of the house (as well as the basement, despite being told numerous times by England to not even think about entering the room) Francis began a slow ascent up the stairs in the hopes that Arthur was in fact just massively absorbed in a particularly interesting book or something and was not, in fact, out elsewhere.

As he approached the other nation's study door he took a deep breath and hoped he would not be met with _too much _of the patented British bad temper which he had come to expect from Arthur. He gave two swift knocks to the hard wood before slowly pushing the door open and stepping inside, suddenly feeling something he supposed was akin to what someone would feel knowingly stepping into a lion's den.

His concern quickly evaporated as he stepped into the study to find the entire room cast in shadow from the messily drawn curtains and a blonde head of hair being held between two desperate hands on the sofa which ran across one side of the room.

Without a moment's thought Francis was across the room and at the other nation's side, one hand resting comfortingly on the other's shoulder. "Mon Cher? Arthur? Are you okay?"

The British nation turned his head towards the other blonde but Francis could tell that he was having difficulty focussing. "Frog? What are you doing here…?" Francis smiled kindly at Arthur, the hand on his shoulder holding him still as he started to sway in place.

"We were supposed to go for lunch, Mon Cher. Or did you forget?"

Arthur watched him blearily for a moment before responding with a snap, "Of course I didn't forget, Bloody Git. I was just-" Arthur suddenly moved to stand up, catching Francis off-guard. The Frenchman moved as quickly as he could but just barely stopped to Englishman's face-first descent towards the ground in time to save the other man's nose.

Francis manoeuvred the slighter man back into his seat before setting a serious glare on him. "Don't do that again. Now tell me what's wrong, Arthur."

Arthur glared angrily at the opposite wall for a minute, visibly unhappy about having shown weakness in front of his fellow country. Finally, with a sigh, he spoke, "It's the heat, I'm not used to it and as much as I try to stay out of it it's just not helping at all. I can barely see straight at this point and my head is killing me…" As if it felt the need to make itself known a bolt of pain shot through Arthur's temple, causing him to hiss in pain and throw one hand up to knead anxiously at the painful throbbing in his skull.

"Hmm, it would appear you have heat exhaustion, Mon Ami. I'm not surprised to be honest, with the weather you've been having recently." He shot the Brit a sly smile, "You are not used to it, non?"

Had his hands not been otherwise occupied fending off the pain in his skull Arthur would have throttled the other man. Instead he simply sent him a glare which he soon regretted when the movement of his facial muscles caused yet another shock through his skull.

"Ah, Mon Amour, do not frown so, I shall help you to feel better." France smiled sweetly and England was instantly set on edge.

"If you even dare, you pervert-" Francis pressed a finger to Arthur's lips, effectively ceasing his rant before it began.

"I would not consider such a thing whilst you were in such a state, Mon Cher." His look of shock turned to a lecherous grin. "Unless of course, you asked-"

"NO! You damn useless frog, can you think with your head for even one minute?!"

"Of course, Mon Cher. Now allow me to help you to a cooler room. Your bedroom is on the east side of the house if I'm not mistaken. That will hopefully be somewhat cooler than here, Oui?" Arthur blinked for a moment, surprised at Francis's unusual level of maturity.

"Um, uh, yes, it is…"

"Ce qui est bon. Let me help you?" Arthur nodded, still in a half delusional daze from the heat, and soon felt two strong hands helping him to stand before looping one of his arms over the other's shoulders and walking slowly to Arthur's bedroom, pausing occasionally so that Francis could check the other nation was okay.

Pushing the door open gently, Francis sighed at the cool, clean air which permeated the room. After setting Arthur gently on the bed he went about closing curtains and turning on fans, anything to aid in cooling the younger nation off at all.

"Do you have anything thinner than that?" France asked hastily, trying to think of anything else he could do to drop Arthur's temperature whilst motioning at Arthur's current outfit.

Arthur glanced down at the shirt and slacks he currently wore and grunted an assent, already working on a plan to ensure he didn't need France's aid in dressing himself.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it, I'm going to go and get you some water. I'll be back in a few minutes, Mon Cher, do not miss me too much." With a smirk Francis left the room, leaving behind a faint waft of perfume.

Arthur forced himself to stand as soon as the Frenchman had shut the door behind him, he refused to risk being caught getting changed by that pervert. Stumbling to his dresser he pulled out a thin pair of pyjama trousers and a t-shirt and managed to change into them without knocking himself out when a wave of dizziness washed over him as he was pulling the t-shirt over his head. He clasped the top of the dresser for a moment before dumping his old clothes of a chair and making his way back to the bed.

He had just managed to lower himself onto the cool sheets when a knock at the door announced Francis's re-arrival. The Frenchman let himself in without any affirmation from Arthur, causing Arthur to scowl at the older man. "You know it is customary to wait after you knock, not to just waltz in anyway. I could have been naked for all you know."

"And how do you know that wasn't what I was hoping for?" Francis winked at the blushing Brit as he motioned for him to lie back down on the bed. "Now relax, you're not going to feel any better if you don't let yourself rest."

Arthur grumbled under his breath but did as he was told, allowing his aching head to be cushioned by the soft pillows. After a moment he felt a cool, damp cloth being gently placed over his eyes and forehead and was unable to hold back the sigh of relief as his headache was gradually reduced to a dull ache.

"There, Mon Petit Lapin, now you'll hopefully be able to sleep. That should clear up your headache a bit but there's water here too and some medicine if you really need it." Arthur grumbled sleepily in response; now that the pain was mostly gone he found that he was suddenly incredibly tired.

Francis traced gentle soothing circles into the other nation's temple as he began to drift off. France smiled to himself at the sight of the peaceful blonde as his breathing evened out, glad to have been blessed with the image of a completely relaxed Arthur Kirkland; a rare thing to see indeed. He settled down in a chair near the bed in case Arthur needed him when he woke up and opened a book he had borrowed from Arthur's study. After one final glance at the sleeping nation he began to read quietly.

* * *

Arthur awoke with a groan several hours later. The sun would be setting soon and he could already feel the change in temperature in the air as he sat up, removing the cloth from where it had been resting on his forehead.

For a moment he looked at the cloth, confused as to how it had come to be on his head as he was sure he had not done it himself…

His question was answered as a certain blonde stepped through the door, a tray with two tea cups and a plate of biscuits balanced on one hand. Francis's eyes lit up as he caught sight of the younger blonde, "Ah, I had a feeling you would be waking up soon, Mon Amour. I brought you tea, just the way you like it." With a flourish Francis set the tea tray on Arthur's bedside table and sent the Brit a cheek-splitting grin. "And I must say that you are certainly looking better than you did earlier, Angleterre."

Arthur sent Francis a shocked look, "Frog? Did you really stay here all this time? I would have thought you'd have more important things to do than watch me sleep…"

Francis passed him his tea and perched himself on the edge of Arthur's bed before answering, sipping his own tea contemplatively. "Well, firstly Angleterre, what makes you think I would ever give up the opportunity to watch such beauty sleep?" Arthur slapped him lightly on the arm, but couldn't bring himself to hit the man any harder than that. "And secondly, I had the afternoon reserved for you anyway, and the evening may I add, and even tomorrow morning if I got lucky, non? Onhonhon." Francis laughed to himself and this time Arthur didn't hold back with his slap.

"Oh ho, sorry Mon Cher, I forgot you do not like me talking in such a way." Francis smiled down at Arthur tenderly for a moment before continuing, "Anyway, as I said, I already had the time reserved to spend with you. And even if I did not get to spend it with you in the way which I had hoped I still think that helping you to feel better again is a worthwhile way to spend the day, don't you agree?"

Arthur couldn't help but smile at the sincere tone in Francis's voice and before he knew it he had placed his tea back on the tray and reached forward to press his lips softly against the other blonde's in a chaste kiss. Pulling away he coughed nervously, rarely the one to make the first move, and looked down at his hands in his lap. "Um, thank you Frog, for looking after me. It was… nice… of you."

As he glanced back up he caught sight of the other's smirk for a moment before his lips were caught up in another, more aggressive kiss. When they pulled away a moment later, both nations found themselves short of breath and for a moment they just watched each other, twin smiles sneaking their way onto their lips.

"You're most welcome, Mon Cher. After all, if you were still feeling ill then we couldn't have any fun at all!" For a moment Francis thought Arthur would slap him for his comment (and truth be told, the younger nation did consider it) but instead Arthur just smirked at him and muttered a swift, "Don't push your luck, Love, you're in my good books right now."

The two remained where they were for a few more minutes, just basking in the silence, before the rumbling of Arthur's stomach interrupted the moment. With a grin the younger nation held his hands out to Francis, "Help me up, Git? Then we can go and get something to eat."

The older blonde pulled Arthur to standing and smiled sweetly. "As long as you're not the one cooking, Mon Petit." And without another word the Frenchman took off towards the kitchen, hoping to somehow manage to cook something delicious enough to keep Arthur from killing him before the younger caught up with him.

As the sun finally slipped below the horizon, the pain Arthur had previously been in before slipped from his mind as he chased the ridiculous, stubborn and wonderful Frenchman around his kitchen, and despite the fact that he would deny it later, there was a smile lighting his face the whole time.

* * *

**A/N **How did I do? Hope you guys enjoyed it :)


End file.
